


Words Fail

by UpsideAround



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, bowling, dadvid, parenting struggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 00:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpsideAround/pseuds/UpsideAround
Summary: Some days, David can manage to get on every last one of Max’s nerves. The constant optimism. The blinding smiles. His hopeful, caring, unrelenting attitude. Some days, it can get to the point where everything gets under Max’s skin until he wants to explode.Today was one of those days.





	Words Fail

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to be a companion piece to a wonderful work of [fanart](http://pilot-doodles.tumblr.com/post/165040246210/sometimes-its-hard-for-people-who-have-been-in) by @pilot-doodles!

“ _Eventually something you love will be taken away_  
_and then you will fall to the floor crying._

 _and then, however much later, it is finally happening to you:_  
_you're falling to the floor crying, thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying.”_  
  
_but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it—_  
_you knew it would happen, and even worse,_  
_while you’re on the floor crying_  
_and you look at the place where the wall meets the floor,_

_and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.”_

— Richard Siken

 

* * *

 

It was an abnormally hot fall day when everything went wrong.

Max awoke that morning, tired and sticky from the layer of sweat glazing his skin. He rolled over in bed, fumbling for the water he kept by his bed. His hand gripped the glass as he sat up to drink it.

It was only half empty, but the water was stale.

Max drank it anyway, only cringing when he finished. He placed the glass back on his nightstand and flopped back into bed.

He didn’t make it five minutes before an all-too cheery David knocked at his door.

“Max? C’mon, I’ve got a fun day for us planned! It’s time to get out of bed!”

Max groaned and pulled his pillow over his ears.

—

Twenty minutes later, Max shuffled out of his room.

“Where are we going?” he shouted down the hall.

“Oh, we’re not leaving for a couple hours.”

Max stopped in front of David and stared at him. “So why the hell did you wake me up?”

“Well, it’s not good to lay in bed all day,” David said. “Don’t you feel better now that you’re up and at ‘em?”

Max scoffed and made his way to the couch. He could at least pretend that David wasn’t there.

—

Eventually, they did go out. They went bowling, which had to be the most depressing sport.

Max tried to explain this to David, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

“Look around, David, all the lanes are empty, there’s no one here, and I’m pretty sure someone threw up a few lanes over! This is obviously a dying industry!”

David finished tying his bowling shoes and jumped up. “Well, I’m glad we’re giving them our business, then. Now, let’s go pick out our balls.”

Max sighed and hopped out of the chair. “Please don’t phrase it like that.”

—

The ball slid easily down the lane, clattering into the pins on the right.

“Whohoo, a spare! Nicely done, Max!”

Max shrugged and shuffled back to his seat. “I’d like to see you try and top that.”

David jumped up and put his hands on his hips. “Right,” he said, marching toward the lanes. He picked up his ball and held it at his chest.

Max watched unamusadly as David took a few steps back, then ran toward the lanes. He swung and let the ball go sliding.

Sliding straight into the gutter.

Max slow clapped. “Wow, that should get you a ton of points.”

David waved him off. “I’ve still got a second chance. There’re always second chances.”

Max scoffed. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He was right. When David took his shot, the ball curved like it was going towards the pins on the right side, but then spun and only knocked down three pins.

They played a total of three rounds. David lost three times, and still cheered every time Max got a couple pins down.

They agreed to a final fourth game.

Max tried to focus on his and David’s game, but a family set up shop in the lane adjacent to theirs. They clattered around and made far too much noise, but that lessened as they got settled in.

Max sighed and turned back to his and David’s game. The scoreboard showed only two frames so far. “Davey” with 5 points, and “MAX” with 15.

Currently, David was winding up for another throw. He stepped back and forth in front of the lane, as if practicing for a perfect shot. He swung his arm back, ran forward, this time really swinging the ball for real.

David let the ball go. He stepped back as it rolled smoothly away.

The ball clattered into the gutter.

“Max?” David asked, turning around.

“Hm.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the rails?”

Max sighed and picked up his ball. “No, rails are for babies. It’s not my fault you suck at bowling.”

He walked up to the lane and stared down the pins. He almost didn’t notice the conversation sparking up behind him.

“Your son is quite a handful, isn’t he?” An older woman was speaking.

Max froze. _Son?_

He waited for David to deny it.

“What? Um, Max? Yeah, he keeps me on my toes. He’s really intelligent beyond his years.”

“I remember when mine were that age. Little demons, all of them.”

Max heard David give a half-hearted laugh.

Max ignored the tossing in his gut and threw the ball on the lane before he could hear how David was going to respond.

“Is this your family?” David’s voice caught Max’s attention.

He turned around to see David leaning over his chair to talk to the lady from the lane over. He heard his ball clatter into the gutter. The sound echoed in his head.

The lady laughed. “Yep! This is the whole gang.”

“Do you guys go bowling together often? This is Max and my’s first time.”

Max approached slowly, choosing to stare at the belt that was supposed to return his ball instead of the family next door. He felt David’s gaze burning into his back. Max clenched his fists and buried them in the pocket of his hoodie.

He told himself he didn’t care about the lady and her family. He didn’t listen to the next thing she said.

When the ball came back up, he managed to make another gutter shot. The crawling in his stomach didn’t stop.

“Your turn,” Max said, dropping into his chair.

—

Davey: 70  
MAX: 32

The scoreboard read their scores in a painful bright blue.

“Hey, looks like I _can_ bowl!” David said, grinning and stepping forward.

Max scowled. He sorely wished he could’ve won one last time, maybe then David wouldn’t be wearing that stupid, smug expression.

“And you won the first three games! I’m proud of us,” David said, ruffling Max’s hair.

Max wriggled out of David’s hands and started resetting the lane. “Yeah, whatever.”

David was silent.

 _Good_ , Max thought.

Max picked up his ball and put it back on the rack, avoiding David’s eye contact. He lifted the ball, tottering under it’s weight.

“Careful—”

Max tossed the ball onto the rack. “I know how to put a bowling ball away, David,” he growled.

David visibly relaxed. “I know, I just…”

Max huffed and sat down to take off his bowling shoes.

David straightened up. “Well, I certainly think we had a wonderful afternoon!”

“Sure. If that’s what you wanna call it,” Max said, hopping off his seat and walking off to turn in his bowling shoes.

—

Max was the first out of the car and the first inside the house.

“Wow! Wasn’t that just great, Max?” David said, closing the door behind him.

Max rolled his eyes and grabbed his PSP from the table by the door. He walked over to the couch, plopped down and tossed his sweatshirt on the floor.

David picked up Max’s sweatshirt and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

“Now, come on, you could show me at least a little appreciation.”

Max pretended not to hear him.

David walked over and sat on the armrest of the couch. Max watched his game carefully, staring intently at the screen until all he saw were the pixels.

“Max?”

Max looked up. He glared.

David was looking at him, a softness in his eyes that made Max want to elbow him in the face.

David sighed gently. “Seriously, Max, I’m trying. Couldn’t you try to meet me halfway?”

Max would’ve laughed, if the fire in his gut wasn’t tying itself into knots. He shoved his game away. “We’ve been over this,” he said, standing up.

“This shit isn’t helping. You’re not helping, David.” He tore at his hair and flung his hand out. “You told me I could stop pretending!”

Max started to pace back and forth along the couch. “But you’re always fucking happy. I thought you understood, finally. Quit pretending to care.”

“Max—”

Max whipped around, snatching himself away from David’s outstreached hand. “Quit pretending to be my dad! It’s seriously annoying!”

David pulled back, still looking at Max with those stupid, soft, green eyes.

Max shot David a glare before marching back to his room.

He slammed the door as hard as he could, hoping he could break the door frame. Maybe then David would see how mad he really was.

Of course, the doorframe held steady.

Max screamed at the door and kicked it. Pain shot up his leg, but Max didn’t care. He kicked the door again, wishing it would break into a thousand splinters. The fact that it didn’t just made him more angry. Max punched the door and yelped as his hand collided with it.

“Motherfucker,” Max mumbled, cradling his hand and leaning up against the door.

He slid to the floor.

—

Max woke up. He blinked a couple times, letting his eyes adjust to the low lighting. His alarm clock gave off a low blue glow, mixing with the yellow haze of the streetlights outside. He stared at his ceiling for a moment. He was glazed with a new layer of sweat.

He rolled over, staring at his glass.

His glass of water, which was now empty. He never had gotten around to refilling it earlier.

“Fuck, water,” Max muttered, pulling himself out of bed.

He stood up, shuffling along the carpet. He opened the door carelessly and began walking down the hall.

A light was on in the living room. Max froze partway down the hallway. He retreated into the shadow of the hallway. He was about to turn around to walk back to his room, when—

“What am I doing wrong?”

At the sound of David’s voice, Max unfroze and dared to peek around the corner.

David was on the couch, hunched over photos strewn on the table.

 _“What…?”_   Max mouthed to himself.

“I don’t understand,” David said, picking up a photo, “What am I doing wrong?”

He looked so small, curled up into himself like that. Hunched over, David looked three feet tall.

“What am I doing—” David’s breath caught and he pressed his hand to his mouth has his body began to shake with a sob. His eyes were shut, but Max could see the tears rolling down his face as he sat there on the couch, holding himself, whimpering.

The photograph fell out of David’s hands and fluttered to the floor.

Max stepped back into the darkness of the hallway. He stared at the wall for a moment before fleeing to his room.

He closed the door behind him, careful not to make a sound.

—

David felt his hands shake as he took a deep breath. The air got stuck in his throat and came out as a wheeze.

His head feel into his hands. He pressed his palms to his eyes, desperately trying to stop the tears.

He took another breath, slow and careful.

He exhaled smoothly. He lifted his head slightly, a slow feeling of numbness creeping up from his toes and freezing his whole body. He stared straight ahead, letting the wall on the other side of the room fill up his vision.

“Huh,” he said. “The trimming there isn’t quite right. I didn’t—”

His breath hitched and the hot tears began burning paths down his cheeks again.

“I didn’t do it right,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

 

* * *

 

 The first thing Max noticed was a warm, sweet smell enveloping him and embracing him tightly.

Max rolled over and sighed, not wanting to wake up from this nice dream. He didn’t want to open his eyes to a room that was cold and empty, void of any gentle tendrils of scent. He wrapped his blankets around himself.

A loud clatter and a yelp startled Max out of his dream.

Max sat up. The warm smell of pancakes was still there.

Max sat there for a moment, staring at his bedsheets. He blinked a couple times, his whole body holding still except for his steady breathing.

There was a second clatter from the kitchen.

Max sighed and tossed the sheets off his legs. He hopped out of bed, deciding to investigate. He opened the door and began to walk down the hall.

“David, what the fuck are you doing?” Max said, rubbing his eyes and stepping into the kitchen.

David spun around to face Max. He was wearing his checkerboard apron and a plasterboard grin. His smile was bright, but didn’t reach his ears like it usually did. His hair wasn’t as neat as it normally was in the morning—it was flopped over his forehead. Defeated.

“Making pancakes, of course! A good breakfast leads to a good day,” David said, turning back around and flipping a few pancakes.

“God, do you ever sleep?” Max said, huffing and jumping into his chair.

David was hunched over his pancakes, and Max realized he really hadn’t ever seen him sleep. He put the spatula back in the bowl, and braced himself against the counter. Max barely caught it, but his smile wavered for a moment.

Max sighed. “David, sit down. You look like shit.”

David stepped back from the stove and turned around. His smile had dropped, and the bags under his eyes were clear. “Max, la—”

Max groaned and tugged his hair. “Don’t fucking tell me off about my fucking language! You look like shit, sit down. I know how to make fucking pancakes.”

Max glared at David, who stood there with the spatula in his hand. David looked back at the pancakes on the stove, then back to Max.

A moment passed.

David took a few steps and all but collapsed in the chair opposite Max’s. The spatula clattered on the table.

Max scoffed and jumped out of his chair.

David’s head fell back to rest against the wall. Max watched him take a deep breath out of the corner of his eye.

“Give yourself a break, because I’m sure as hell not gonna,” Max said, pulling a stool over in front of the stove. He climbed onto the counter and opened the cabinet where they kept the chef's hat he had gotten from that stupid “Household Cooking 101” class David had dragged him to.

He jumped down from the counter and stood up on his stool, finally level with the pancakes. He made the mistake of glancing back at David.

David caught Max’s gaze. Max froze.

“Thank you, Max,” David said, giving Max a quiet smile.

Max felt his arms relax and fall to his side. His fingers gripped his chef’s hat tightly, feeling the smoothness of the cloth with his thumb. He glanced down at his hat for a moment before looking back up at David. David, who was looking at him with a fond smile.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Max said, turning around with a huff and tugging his chef’s hat snugly over his hair.

 

* * *

 

 

"For one so small  
You seem so strong  
My arms will hold you,  
Keep you safe and warm  
This bond between us can't be broken  
I will be here  
Don't you cry,"

 _—_ Phil Collins

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen the fanart/comic that this is based on, PLEASE go look at it! It's wonderful and I thought about it for days after I saw it the first time. Find it [here](http://pilot-doodles.tumblr.com/post/165040246210/sometimes-its-hard-for-people-who-have-been-in)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
